A different Mother's Day
by YulianaHenderson
Summary: "'I'm not even sure I know how to... do Mother's Day.' She felt him smiling softly against the skin in her neck. 'That's the great thing about Mother's Day, Teresa – you don't have to do anything. I'll do all the work.'" Jisbon, rated K plus although the ending could be considered T. One-shot.


**A/N: Mother's Day, yay! Just thought I'd write something for my OTP... and yes, Lisbon is pregnant - AGAIN. Like she always is in my stories. I just have an obsession with pregnant women, sue me.**

**Disclaimer: Nothing is mine.**

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'_**A different Mother's Day'**_

She stirred and groaned when her belly prevented her from doing so.

That's also when she felt lips on her belly and her eyes shot open. She looked down, and saw Jane smiling up at her.

"Good morning, Love," he whispered, and moved up to link their lips briefly.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked, lying down beside her. He brushed a strand of hair out of her face.

"Yes, until you woke me up."

He smiled. "Well, it's a special day today. I _had_ to wake you."

She frowned. She looked at him for a long time and he was just softly smiling at her.

"Did I forget your birthday?" she asked. He chuckled and rubbed her belly.

"No, you didn't. Not yet, anyway. Try again."

She went back to staring at him.

Not her own birthday, she wouldn't forget that even though she never celebrated it.

Not the anniversary of Angela and Charlotte's deaths, and even if it was that, Jane wouldn't wake _her_ for that.

Not the anniversary of Red John's death either, that was over a month ago.

It was nobody's birthday... not an annual or national party either-

Mother's Day.

_Teresa stood in the door opening, her hands loosely fisting her white nightgown. _

_Her parents were fast asleep, thank goodness for that._

_She heard her brothers moving around in their room, and she turned towards the room separating the room from the hallway._

"_Shh," she said, softly. The boys turned around. As though she hadn't just forced them to quiet down, they continued what they had been doing, and even louder this time._

_Worried, she turned towards her parents again – who were still fast asleep._

_She sighed and let go of her nightgown. She walked towards the bed and carefully climbed into it at the side where her mother was lying._

_She cuddled into her side and closed her eyes._

_When she opened them again, her brothers were sitting on the bed and her father was sitting on a chair against the wall. She looked up and her mother smiled sweetly at her._

"_Good morning, Butterfly," she whispered and kissed the top of Teresa's head._

"_Reza is awake so now we can give our gifts!" James exclaimed and nearly jumped on top of their mother. Teresa quickly moved out of her mother's arms and fell on the floor._

"_I'm fine!" she announced. James chuckled._

_Teresa got up and before her mother was able to open James' gift, she flung her arms around the woman's neck._

"_Happy Mother's Day, Mommy," she whispered. Her mother's arms tightened around her and she pulled Teresa back on the bed._

"_Thank you, Reese."_

She closed her eyes, and she knew he realized that she knew what day it was. He pressed his lips to her forehead.

"Mother's Day," she whispered. She felt him nodding. He kissed her face; first her forehead, the bridge and then tip of her nose, the corner of her mouth and then finally her lips.

"I almost forgot." She sighed and opened her eyes again. "It's been... twenty-seven years... since I last did something for Mother's Day."

He stroked her cheek. "I know. It's been a while for me, too."

Their eyes met. She sighed. "I'm sorry, of course it is."

"No, it's okay, Teresa." He kissed her, then got up and disappeared out of the room.

Had it really been that long ago?

It had honestly taken three hours for her life to forever be destroyed. And twenty-seven years later, she was still trying to pick up the pieces. She could pretend to be okay, while on the inside, she was still crying.

On days like this, she missed her mother. And this year, it was even worse, considering she was going to be a mother herself. She wanted to share this so badly with her, but she couldn't.

Her mother would have been the perfect grandmother.

Jane re-entered, his face a lot less happy than it had been before he had left, but he didn't look to be on the brim of tears. In his hands was a tray, and when he put it down on the bed next to Lisbon, she saw what was on it – French Toast, a glass of milk, an egg and an empty teacup.

She smiled softly at Jane when she looked up at him again. Her smile faltered again, though.

"She's been dead for nearly three decades... nearly seventy-five percent of my life. If anyone had to see me becoming a mother, it was her."

He walked around the bed and helped her sit up, then sat down behind her. He wrapped his arms around her, stroking her belly with two flat hands. He kissed her neck.

"I'm not even sure I know how to... do Mother's Day."

She felt him smiling softly against the skin in her neck.

"That's the great thing about Mother's Day, Teresa – you don't have to do anything. _I_'ll do all the work."

She sighed and picked up the glass of milk, taking a sip of it. She put it on the top of her belly and Jane chuckled softly – he was almost amused by the fact she used her belly as a table.

"What did you do for Mother's Day when you were with Angela and Charlotte?"

"Not much... I was always working. Charlotte, however, did the most amazing things for her mother. Her first year at kindergarten, she made a drawing. She got help from her teachers. I can still remember coming home and seeing my little girl cuddled into her mother's side while Angela was holding her drawing, smiling brightly." He paused. "I don't think that I would've known what to do for Mother's day. My own mother died shortly after I was born... and my father never believed in that commercial crap so I never got to do anything for Father's Day, either. Not that I _would_ have done something, he wasn't the greatest father, definitely not."

He picked up the French toast and took off one piece, popping it into his mouth.

"I'm a dysfunctional parent."

"No, you're not. You just had a strange childhood."

"So did you."

She sighed. They sat in silence, him stealing her food while she drank the milk.

"My father treated me and my brothers equally... at least, he did so before my mother died. But my mother... she loved her daughter, I realized that even at a young age. She always gave me the feeling that I was special, that I was her little princess. And growing up with three younger brothers, I think it was necessary that she did that. One year, I think I was ten, I forgot to make something for her. And I remember that I cried in her arms because I was feeling so guilty, but she just told me that the best gift I could possible give her was for me to grow up and stay my... beautiful self. She told me she didn't need any presents; she knew I loved her just like I knew she loved me. We had an understanding, just us girls."

She wiped the tears that were falling from her eyes away. Damn those hormones.

"I remember being angry as hell when I heard she had died. I wasn't angry with her, but with that drunk driver who killed her. I needed my mother, I loved her, and she was my role model, the only other female in a house full of males."

She put the glass down. "I used to do ballet. I loved it. But after my mother died... I didn't have time for it anymore. My father didn't handle her death quite the way he should have and I was forced to become my own mother."

She sighed and intertwined her hands with his on her belly.

"When my brothers were old enough to understand the situation, they bought me flowers on Mother's Day. I never accepted them, because it felt weird to accept presents on a day that's supposed to be a day in which you thank your mother for taking care of you and loving you... but now I realize that they thanked me too. Not for being their mother, but for taking care of them and making sure they ended up where they wanted to. For being their haven."

He kissed her neck again.  
"You're an angel."

"Really? Do you remember my comment about Catholic School?"

He chuckled. "Yes, I do."

"Do you want me to explain what things I did there?"

"I don't think that could add anything."

"Exactly. I almost dropped out of school because of my behavior. Damn, it would have all been easier if I'd had my mother to fall back on."

He once again kissed the skin in her neck. "Do you have something planned for today?"

"No... you?"

"I do now."

He pulled his hands out of her hold and moved away from behind her. She softly fell back against the pillows again, and he kissed her lips. Then he left the room and she was as confused as she could ever be. He returned with her coat and the car keys.

"Let's go see your mother."

Her jaw almost fell to the floor and he just continued with his plan. He pulled her off the bed and made her change into her clothes.

"Jane..."

He didn't say anything as he made her sit down on the edge of the bed and put on her shoes.

"Patrick."

He looked up. She brushed his cheeks with both hands.

"My mother is dead."

"I know."

"Which means we can't visit her."

"But I'm sure she's lying in a graveyard somewhere, right?"

"Sure. In _Chicago_. That's a one-day drive, Jane. We can't just go there."

"Sure we can."

She used her hands to stand up and made him do the same thing.  
"No," she whispered. "I love you. And I appreciate that you want to do this for me, but no. We won't do this."

He closed his eyes. He was a little out of breath from running around the house. His hands rested on her hips. She kissed his lips and he sighed.

"But..."

"Let's just finish breakfast first," she whispered. She made him sit down on the bed, his back against the pillows. She straddled his legs, and it seemed his entire plan had left his mind, a soft smile creeping on his lips and his hands reached out to brush her belly.

"Breakfast?"

She chuckled and ran a hand through his hair. "Yep. Breakfast. My version of breakfast. I get to decide since it's Mother's Day."

"Only if you promise me you'll let me have my way on Father's Day."

She smiled a wicked smile. "We'll see, old man."

Just before she linked their lips, he gently pushed her away. "Are you sure you're fine, Teresa?"

She frowned. "Yes. Of course. It's been nearly three decades, Jane. I'm almost forty. I shouldn't be crying over my mother's death."

"But just because you're an adult now doesn't mean you can't cry. I won't blame you, Teresa, nor will I laugh at you. I _want_ you to cry if you feel like it."

She sighed but didn't move from his legs.

"I'm okay. You?"

He sighed too. "It's just a really weird Mother's Day for the both of us."

She nodded. Then she leaned down again. "We can still fix it, though."

He smiled and hooked his fingers around the hem of her nightgown. He rolled his eyes exaggeratingly as he pulled it over her head, exposing her bare breasts and belly. "Alright, fine. If you insist."

Needless to say, the rest of their Mother's Day was pretty good.

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**A/N: Yeah, I know, this story didn't exactly turn out quite the way I wanted it to. I didn't mean for them to make love... it just sorta happened, alright.**

**So let me know what you think! Happy Mother's Day, everybody!**


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